


Wolf's lion

by UlsPi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Ned Stark Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Tywin Lannister arrives just in time to prevent the execution of Ned Stark. Two patriarchs need to figure out what happens next, while Tywin finds himself falling for Sansa.
Relationships: Tyrion Lannister & Tywin Lannister, Tywin Lannister & Ned Stark, Tywin Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in the fandom. Please be kind to me.

Tywin Lannister wouldn't have been himself, had he not realised quite early that his eldest grandson was a sadistic piece of shit. 

He liked to think that he'd be a lesser Lannister, because, really, he could only ever be a Lannister. 

Anyways, he was riding to the King's Landing, barely sparing a thought for his horses, barely sparing a thought for anything that wasn't his sadistic grandson who had been holding Lord Stark a prisoner for far too long.

In Tywin's mind, it all had become too dramatic, too fierce. The entire affair belonged in a theatre, not in the Red Keep. 

Tywin spurred his horse on, thinking about letting the mare shit right under the arrogant nose of Jeffrey's. The boy needed to learn, after all.

***

Sansa had convinced herself that she could reason with her… intended. She hated him, gods, she despised him, but he was to be her husband - a hateful thought, but still the least of her concerns now that her father's life was on the line. 

She hated seeing her father humiliate himself in front of a crowd of people who wanted a royal scandal more than bread that they lacked. Sansa forced herself to forget about it too. She had to protect her father, a noble fool who had thought that the truth would be self-evident. 

By now Sansa had spent enough time at the royal court to know that honour meant nothing, and neither did nobility and honesty. She was alone, and her father was alone and ready to accept his shame. 

Sansa thought back to her fantasies. She used to see Joffrey as the most important, handsomest man in the land, but now she knew, she had learned that her betrothed was but a shadow of his family name. 

Sansa heard Joffrey announcing that he'd never forgive treason. She was on her knees, begging for her father's life and oblivious to her dignity when a low, powerful voice made itself known. Sansa took a moment to breathe. No one would argue with Tywin Lannister, not even his kin. Sansa grew smart enough to know that Joffrey's power resided in sycophants…

Tywin Lannister told his grandson to spare lord Stark's life, but the boy just smirked. "Kill them both, then. Kill the traitor and kill my grandfather too!"

Sansa saw Cercei turning paler than a sheet. She would have lauded it, but she cared about her father more, so she shielded him and kept begging, soft and sweet. Arya was right, there was no victory in being a woman, even if Sansa had been closer to becoming a queen than anyone. Even Cersei had to bend to her, especially now when the young king went rabid with anger, high on his power.

No one dared approach Tywin, however. The man didn't move, but his handsome tired face betrayed his amusement with a smirk. 

Sansa gingerly took Joffrey's hands. He'd hit her before and he'd do it again, but she had let this farce go for too long… If she ever saw Arya again, she'd have to apologise to the little wild girl. She should have known better, she should have known better…

The time seemed to have stopped and she looked up at the cruel young king. She remembered her home, her false, forced innocence; remembered her brothers, remembered Jon, remembered Arya. She had so much to fight for, it suddenly felt as if she had never breathed before that moment. This was real, all of it, this cruelty and humiliation, but more importantly, this love. 

"Please, my lord, my king, my love! Please, don't let your righteous anger have the best of you! Many a king suffered for the anger that would have subsided after a few moments of contemplation! Aren't you better and nobler than all the kings of the old?"

Cersei stared at the girl. She was a clever little thing, it turned out, she was cleverer than Cersei. Actually, everyone seemed to be cleverer than Cersei, just as her terrible brother would tell her, just as her lordly father would remark. She could have never thought that Joffrey would be so drunk on his power that he'd allow himself to threaten Tywin Lannister. 

"The king's unwell," Tywin remarked calmly.

Sansa turned to him, then, her blue eyes suddenly as tired as he felt. It filled Tywin with rage, to know that his grandson had turned a giddy young girl into a shrewd old woman. The girl's happiness wasn't his concern, but there had to be a difference between a political necessity and mindless monstrosity. 

She remained on her knees. The time remained slow, too. 

"Escort the king to his chambers and make sure he's well-guarded and tended to," Tywin commanded. His eyes ghosted over his daughter, that arrogant girl who'd never ever learn… "The Queen regent should stay by his side of course." 

Cersei saw it for the condemnation it was. She paled, then her cheeks turned red at the humiliation. Her queen days had come to an end, and she kept looking over her shoulder at Tywin Lannister who helped Sansa to her feet and apologised, coldly but sincerely, to Ned Stark. 

The crowd dissipated, chattering and gossiping. Tywin took a deep breath. 

A dark-haired man approached him, carefully. 

"Lord Tywin, I understand that your feud with the Starks is… over?" He asked. 

"What business is that of yours?" Tywin snapped at him, surprised that the man had managed to come this close to him without anyone noticing. 

"Only this. If you have Lord Stark's well-being to heart, then tell him that his daughter is safe… No, don't do anything silly," the man smirked. "You can't find me, you don't dwell that low, do you? Tell Lord Stark that his girl is safe and that I will bring her to him the moment he informs me. He knows how. I think you've learned that you can't bend this man to your will." The man smirked again and disappeared just as swiftly.

***

Tywin's own most trusted guards stood by the king's chambers, unrelenting and unimpressed by the sounds of arguing that came from behind the door. Tywin would have to deal with his stupid daughter and his useless grandson later. He'd have to be exhausted to face them calmly. 

Tywin had always been of the opinion that sense of humour was either a divine privilege or the last refuge, and Tywin wasn't a god, he wasn't even a king, nor he was a pauper, yet he couldn't help but admire the way the gods humoured him - he had done everything in his power and beyond to restore his family, but his own children seemed to be determined to undo his work.

Tywin winced, thinking of Tyrion. Tywin would admit to being prideful, but he wouldn't admit to being prejudiced, although there was no other word for the way he treated his youngest son, his one true child who had stolen his wife from him, who had never looked like a Lannister, but had Tywin's wits and a sense of humour to rival that of the gods. 

***

He decided to check on Sansa first. She had washed her hands and face and had changed her gown. It didn't escape Tywin's notice that the gown she had worn earlier was now burning in the fireplace. 

"I offer my deepest apologies, my lady, for the way you have been treated. Do you have everything you need?" He realised the idiocy of his question the moment it left his lips. 

"Is my father safe?" She asked.

"He is. I would never treat the man of your father's stature the way my grandson did."

"A valuable prisoner," Sansa remarked. She had no right to look so beautiful and sound so tired. 

"A guest, from this moment on. You'll want for nothing. There will be a lot of negotiations, but I trust your father to make a wise decision. I trust myself to make a wise decision too."

Sansa nodded. "If you… My Lord Hand, if you could help us find my sister… She's… she's… If you tell her that she doesn't need to wear a dress or embroider, she'll come willingly. I've been awful to her and I miss her."

"I'll do what I can, my lady, but don't judge yourself too harshly. Our siblings are there to test our limits." Tywin bowed and moved to leave. 

"She was right, my Arya," Sansa said quietly. "I was so foolish, so blind! There's no glory to any of this. No glory in death and no glory in war. No glory in courtly manners, in fame, in… anything. I want my young sister with me, my Lord Hand, please."

Tywin nodded and abruptly left. Begging, he was used to. Young people coming to their senses and rethinking their worldview, that was a torture to behold. He had seen his children slip away from him and his grasp, he had watched them hide their feelings from him - he had taught them well, after all - but seeing Sansa Stark turning into someone she had never been meant to be and doing it with grace and wisdom… No, Tywin wasn't ready for it. 

***

"There's much to be discussed, Lord Stark," Tywin began. 

Ned looked at him warily. He had washed and changed his clothes too, but he remained wary and guarded, and Tywin couldn't blame him for it. 

"There's indeed, Lord Tywin."

"Then why don't we do it? Someone needs to be an adult in all this." Tywin sat across the table from Ned Stark. "I understand you've discovered some important facts. You're safe, you have my word. I need to know what it is that you've found out, so that we can decide what happens next."

Ned chuckled. 

"I have discovered that King Robert had fathered numerous bastards. I have discovered that your daughter bore children from your son. Jon Arryn was murdered for the same discoveries. I confronted your daughter and offered her a chance to take her children and run away, but she refused it. What else is there to say?"

"Condolences?" Tywin suggested with a chuckle. "I doubt your own children disappointed you as much as mine have… what a sad thought!"

"Your children… turned into what you wanted them to be, I suppose," Lord Stark replied calmly. "They just don't possess your wisdom, your knowledge of the world. They are still playing knights and queens, although there are real people suffering for their games."

"You're a fair judge, Lord Stark. Merciless too."

"Not as merciless as you, my Lord," Ned replied calmly. 

"What do you suggest?" Tywin decided to cut the chase.

"Stannis Baratheon has to become the new king." 

"Stannis would be a very bad king. He's not handsome, he's not charming, he's cold and cruel. He doesn't want anything for himself, just his honour, and his honour is such that we all will die before he feels satisfied."

Ned could only sigh to that. "Yet, he's the rightful king."

"And a fanatic," Tywin informed. 

"Oh fuck," Ned rubbed his face. 

"I wish. Would have our juices running."

Both men giggled like young idiots.

"Let's say I send my daughter away with her children. She won't sully the halls of her ancestral home with…"

"She's your daughter," Ned reminded softly. "They are your grandchildren. Monsters they might be, but you can't just get rid of them. I know you're obsessed with legacy, and I don't blame you, but… if one sees a clean story one tends to think that someone erased quite a lot of it. We're defined by our disgrace and grace in equal measure." Ned paused. 

Tywin looked at him, waiting and dreading and hating the man for being so wise and right.

"I want my family to remain in power," Tywin said finally. "I want you to be back with your family. I want this stupid feud over. What do you suggest?" Tywin repeated his question. 

"Your son joins the Night's Watch or is sent away from the capital for a long time. Your daughter and her children leave for the Casterly Rock. You'll show yourself both kind and ruthless."

Tywin nodded to that. It felt good to negotiate with an equal, for once. 

"Tyrion, being your truest offspring, gets a position at the court. A good position. You might hate him, but he's a smart man, and we don't have enough of those, do we?"

Tywin had to nod to it as well. 

"Since you had no knowledge of your children's incestuous relationship, it's only reasonable for you to remain as the Hand, although I hear Stannis has one too… it can be negotiated. I don't want bloodshed, no one does. You remain in power, so does Tyrion. Jaime can return after a few years, preferably with a wife, unless you want him to join the Night's Watch. I take it you don't want it."

"I don't," Tywin said sardonically.

"And… in order to ensure our alliance is solid… you'll have to marry one of my daughters." Ned's face fell, his voice trembled. 

"I doubt Lady Sansa will find me as fetching as Joffrey," Tywin replied. He didn't want to remarry, although his children had brought him nothing but disappointment. He could use a wife… he could have more children, start anew. It wouldn't be for love, but…

"You won't hurt her, though. I let your grandson hurt her. But you won't hurt her. You won't."

"I swear it. I'm sure Lady Sansa is a smart woman and can see the advantages of a political alliance. I won't hurt her. I doubt I can produce an heir," Tywin Lannister felt himself blush for the first time in about forever. 

"Spare me the details. If our houses are united, Stannis can't refuse your demands."

***

Ned and Tywin watched Stannis chatting with the Red Priestess, a calculating fanatic of the worst kind, his wife every inch the mad queen, their daughter a miserable sweet child that both Ned and Tywin wanted to adopt and pair up with Arya for some tough female wisdom. 

"I mean, we can still kill him," Tywin offered evenly. 

"No," Ned said through his teeth.

"He might be the rightful king, but he's… a bit too dangerous, for my taste." Tywin couldn't wash away that  _ taste  _ even with the finest Dornish wine.

"You served the Mad King," Ned reminded. 

"And when he became too mad, I… made sure to rebel. Lord Stark, even I don't murder my kin."

Both patriarchs looked outside, at the neat piles that had used to be Stannis' in-laws. 

"And we might be the next. Didn't we have enough of the fire madness? I mean, some water fanatic would do," Tywin remarked dryly. "Septons are hard enough to deal with, but none of them wags their boobs around like that. Gods, I'm about to be married to your daughter!" Tywin turned around, having to face the pyres once again. 

"And I'm a married man," Ned replied. "I don't find her that… seductive."

"Yes, because you have a lovely wife, and Stannis has the mad queen!" Tywin hissed. "What do we do?"

"Davos seems like a reasonable man," Ned suggested. 

"He's a fanatic. His god is Stannis."

Ned rolled his eyes. 

"Are you sure assassination is the only way?"

"I don't know. We're totally kidnapping that girl and making her a Lannister. A Stark. Both. Neither. I'm not a soft man…" Tywin sniffed to drive his point anywhere but home. "Then we… kill everyone? Swiftly? Maybe a storm could be organised?"

"Renly would be a good king," Ned suggested. 

"He's… a sword-swallower, though," Tywin said.

"All the better for you! He can marry his lover!" Ned had had too much to drink. "He marries his lover. Yes. I'm all for it. Let's adopt the girl."

"We're not married," Tywin replied cooly. He had never been interested in men, but for Shireen Baratheon he'd do anything.

***

Tywin intended to spend more time with his bride, but instead he spent his time with Ned Stark, drinking and dreaming of Tyrion. Tywin loved Tyrion when he was drunk. 

"So… Stannis had his brother killed," Ned stated the obvious. 

"I have noticed," Tywin answered. He needed Tyrion. The situation was getting out of hand. At least Jaime was on his not so merry way somewhere north and Cersei had to deal with her spoilt brats in the South. Splendid. 

"Can't we… you," Ned corrected himself, "find a law that can… you know, declare Stannis unfit to rule? He's so unfit to rule…"

"We need to kidnap the girl and negotiate!" Tywin proclaimed. "We get the girl, the girl gets some love, you can take her back to Winterfell…"

"Yes, but the king!"

"I could be the king." Tywin hiccuped. 

"You would be a good one…" Ned said dreamily. 

"You could be the king."

"No, no way. I'm not staying here!" Ned sauntered over to what he thought was a door but turned out to be a solid brick wall.

"You know…" Ned began from the floor. 

"I think I should," Tywin retorted. 

"My bastard son… he's not a bastard. He's a Targaryen."

"Fuck, I knew it!"

"And he wouldn't want to be a king, either. And there's that Targaryen girl somewhere… far."

***

No one argued with Tywin Lannister, so Tywin Lannister ceased the crown, with the unexpected support of the Starks. The agreement was the following. 

Tywin would remain the king until he was sure that Jon Snow, nay, Aegon Targaryen, and his wife Daenerys could rule the realm without burning it all. Then everyone could retire to their ancestral homes and raise their children and get drunk just to forget the whole mess. 

"The less drama, the better!" Ned Stark said that evening and passed out on the carpet. 

"You're what?" Tyrion whispered loudly as soon as Ned's snores made the whole Keep vibrate. 

"Marrying Sansa Stark," Tywin said, gloomily. 

"Alright… father, do you know where clitoris is?"

"You're speaking to your father!"

"Who doesn't know where clitoris is!"

"Alright, where is it? Is it important for procreation?"

"Are you telling me you never satisfied our mother?"

"She seemed fine!"

"Oh fuck! Dad… dad… may I call you dad? You need to learn. And we need a willing woman."

Tywin couldn't argue with that. 

***

Lord Tywin Lannister woke up to a splitting headache and a gentle touch.

"Hope you'd be like that on our wedding night," Sansa said. 

A cool towel touched Tywin's face. "You're bad for my family. I shouldn't feel so… Saw a Lannister as a human for once." A loud sigh, more water. Tywin pretended to be out of it, just for the sake of Sansa's gentle touch.

***

Sansa had been watching her husband-to-be. 

Joffrey had no shades, he was solidly terrible, but Tywin Lannister was all shades. 

Sansa watched him befriend her father, Sansa watched him hard at work, focused, beautiful when lost in thought. He wasn't ragged, her future lord husband, he was always composed, always wary. There was softness to him, she could tell, but he hid it, refused to acknowledge it. 

And gods, he was beautiful. 

She found herself confiding in Tyrion, when he had finally made it to the King's Landing. Tyrion came to visit her, check on her, he talked to her and he listened. 

"Knew my sister was a bitch and my nephew was a little scumbag. So sorry, Lady Sansa!"

"My father is… a difficult man, but he's not cruel… Well, he is very cruel but only to those he cares about… I don't know if that's bad news… He'll never hurt you, my Lady. And I might teach him a few tricks!" Tyrion grinned. 

Sansa wanted to know more. All she had learned was pain and submission, but Tyrion implied there was something else, something more, so she accompanied him when he visited a brothel, she watched and she learned. She didn't want to be an innocent maiden anymore - the change that Arya welcomed and encouraged.

But Sansa didn't want to become like Cersei either.

"Oh, you'll never be like that," a very naked and well fucked Tyrion convinced her one night. "You don't weaponise yourself. You don't think you can weaponise yourself. You're smart, Sansa, but you're not… unhinged."

Tyrion welcomed Shireen Baratheon into the Red Keep, Tyrion was the soul of it all. Sansa liked him and hated herself for wishing him to be more conventionally attractive. 

***

She walked into the room and paused. Her father was asleep on the floor, Tyrion was asleep on the sofa, Tywin was asleep everywhere, not composed for once, not threatening. 

She took a good look at him.

He was handsome, her future husband, he was old and he was handsome. She could come to love him, she thought, but more importantly, she had to take care of them all… it took her some time to realise she was only taking care of Tywin.

He might not love her, but he had seen so little love in his life, while Sansa had grown up in love, had love in abundance, just there for the taking, there to give. 

She knew Tywin was too smart to refuse love or mistake it for fear. She felt that Tywin wanted love just as desperately as she did. 

***

The day her father led her down the aisle, she looked up at her old husband and felt herself compelled to lean in and whisper to him, "We don't need to suffer, you know. It can be good. We can make it good."

Tywin was stunned by her words, but she knew she had done the right thing. 

***

Tywin hadn't touched her during their first night. 

He told her he'd wait until she was ready to bear a child. He promised to please her when she was ready, but he didn't insist on anything. 

He allowed Sansa to look at him, take him in. He didn't want her to be scared of him, he wanted… he wanted that intimacy he had once had with Joanna, although Joanna was bashful and modest, while Sansa was his equal and likeness in a much younger body. 


	2. Chapter 2

"I really appreciate your input, Tyrion," Ned began cautiously, "but we can't get every person we talk with drunk."

"It gets us the results we seek," Tyrion argued. 

"And a headache," Tywin glared at his youngest son. Fuck, he loved him.

And yes, Tyrion did a splendid job! While Stannis and Tywin stared at each other and Ned tried to put some facts on the table, Tyrion was witty and smart, playful even, but always careful, and he saw to Stannis staying hydrated… fermented. 

Stannis wasn't an eloquent man sober and he was even worse when drunk, but he was pliant and admitted to being tired and just wanting some rest and a shag just for fun. 

Stannis saying the word  _ fun _ had both Lannisters and one Stark lose their composure.

"Promising," Tyrion remarked and turned to his father. "Dad, say  _ fun _ ."

Tywin glared at him.

"Fine, have more wine." Tyrion poured his father more wine. 

The negotiations ended with Stannis agreeing to send his daughter to Winterfell with Ned. Davos would accompany her as well. Stannis would get more independence in his lands, which allowed him, as Tyrion put it, to have an entire realm full of doom and gloom. Stannis wasn't sure he liked it, but his daughter would get some love. 

The negotiations continued. 

Daenerys had three baby dragons, a lot of Dothraki warriors and bravado to end all bravados. 

Jon, Aegon,  _ the boy _ , Tyrion decided, had no bravado at all and had to be taken to a brothel for one of Tyrion's educational shagging sessions.

Both Targaryens needed to be educated in everything, it turned out, and while the boy learned with passion, Daenerys argued with her mentors, until the boy discovered that talking about dragon care could distract his passionate queen-to-be from trying to wipe the floor with every single person who dared say  _ no  _ to her. 

Jon proved to be kind and understanding, to no one's surprise but his own, so he took to defending Daenerys in front of Tywin and Ned and she shared her unhappy childhood memories with him. They bonded over it as well. 

Before long, Ned departed.

Arya stayed with Sansa. Tywin promised the girl to let her train and perhaps, in time, assassinate some people, but of Tywin's choice. She could get one assassination of her own choice once in a while… 

Tywin let her murder Ser Janos, because he was soft like that. It didn't hurt that his girl-wife looked at him tenderly when he spoke with Arya. He really should have called his own daughter Arya. An Arya would never shag her own brother. Arya Stark wouldn't shag anyone because she was a child and because she showed no interest in the things that involved romance. She was a great support to Jon too. 

Tywin suspected that Arya was an enchanted creature a thousand years old. He loved her all the same, and their banter was a pleasure to watch. Tyrion adored her too, of course. 

Speaking of daughters…

***

Tywin enjoyed spending time with Sansa. She had become more confident but there was no arrogance to her. She was unfailingly polite and graceful. 

And she took to hunting. 

Tywin hated it. 

She'd come back wearing men's clothes, sweaty and breathing hard and told her lord husband about her hunting adventures. She wasn't a mindless hunter, nor she was cruel, but she liked the freedom of the activity, and she could do what she liked - thanks to Daenerys and Arya, the customs of the court had changed drastically. 

So she'd sit and move her endless legs this way and that, she'd be at ease and animated. She'd be warm and alive, and Tywin would be polite and composed. 

He wasn't used to… feeling things, at least not like that, when he left Sansa's chambers light-headed and with a smile on his face (everyone thought it was a scowl). 

There was only one person Tywin could talk to about this whole… Thing. And Tywin was ashamed of talking to that person.

And then one day Sansa gave him a peck on the cheek and promised to embroider him a punching cushion. 

Tyrion it was. 

***

"Father! What a pleasure to see you. Haven't brought a single whore here, and if you could set your pet wolf cub on the Littlefinger, that would be lovely." And Tyrion handed his father a goblet of wine. 

"I need a confidante, and you're the only one I can trust," Tywin admitted begrudgingly. "What, again?"

Tyrion made himself comfortable on the sofa and told his father what he had found out about Littlefinger's machinations.

"Arya will take care of him," Tywin promised. He would also like to watch, but the girl worked in mysterious ways. 

"Beautiful! That girl is something. Maybe I should marry her and she would regale me with the tales of her morbid deeds while I will get her a new dagger each month." 

"She might like that," Tywin replied. "Not the marriage, though. Promised her to never speak of marriage with her."

"Speaking of marriage… my dear stepmother seems to be smitten with you. Found clitoris, I suppose?"

"Don't be crude! And she's not smitten with me."

"The moon is made of green cheese, I heard. What is it then?" Tyrion asked softly.

"She's… grown on me. I… don't know what to do. Or how I feel."

"And… can you describe how you feel?" Tyrion was irresistible when he was soft. Tywin regretted every bitter word and action towards his youngest son, who showed him nothing but clever loyalty. 

"I… I… want to… want her to smile at me and talk to me and… trust me. It was different with your mother. Your mother was a…"

"Wasn't a wolf cub. Wasn't young enough to be your granddaughter."

"Yes. I didn't feel the need to… to make an effort with her. Sansa would never… After everything she's been through, I can hardly expect…"

"She washed your drunk face, father. She smiles at you and talks to you and… you should start with a kiss. We just need to find a willing woman to teach you some basics."

"I know how to kiss, Tyrion!"

"No, you don't. You've been out of practice forever."

"I don't… I don't want to kiss her, not now. Just… want her near."

"She is near. You can go to her rooms now and demand a cuddle in that booming voice of yours."

"I thought you were against forcing oneself on a woman."

"Then it's even worse, father. Then you'll have to talk to her."

"And tell her what? Hello, my dear, can we cuddle?"

"Sounds like a good start. Considerate, gentle, open and vulnerable… You're beautiful like that, father."

"I'm not! I've never been."

"I'm a dwarf, and there are women who find me attractive. Sansa has had her fill of a handsome prince. She knows better now. I shouldn't presume for her… but… Yes. You go to her and ask for a cuddle!" Tyrion got up and opened the door for his father. "Off you go before I get you drunk. One cuddle never killed nobody. Wait, it's grammatically incorrect… What would Stannis think? Off with you!"

***

Tywin knocked on Sansa's door. Sansa opened it - and smiled. "Lord Tywin. What a pleasure! You never visit me at this hour."

"I'm… in need of a cuddle," Tywin said seriously.

Sansa giggled. "That could be arranged. Come in, my lord husband."

She wasn't dressed for sleep yet, but she went straight to the bed and settled there, half-sitting.

Tywin gingerly sat next to her. 

"Alright. Come here, my dear husband. It's been a while." She chuckled, opening her arms.

Tywin moved closer, holding her around her middle. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Both let out a relieved sigh.

Sansa played with his hair, traced his ear with her fingers, snuggled closer still… She felt so good in his arms, so real, more genuine than anything else, be it legacy, honour, any codes of conduct. She was just there. There wasn't a rush to get rid of each other's clothes, a rush to put a baby in her - what a disgusting turn of phrase, he thought to himself. He could hold someone he wanted to hold and be held back. 

"It will take us some time," Sansa whispered. "Somehow I trust you… maybe that's why I felt compelled to beg for your life…"

Tywin couldn't help tightening his embrace. 

"You…" She couldn't continue but the way she said it made Tywin tremble. "You used to scare me, but that was before I met you. You're a terrible man, you can be cruel and calculating… but somehow I still want you with me."

***

It took them another year to share a kiss. Tyrion didn't want to know, so he went to Sansa to ask for details. 

***

It took them another two years to hold each other naked and a month after that to become husband and wife.

They didn't have children for a long time, and when they did, they had twins. 

"Second chances, for both of us," Sansa told him, exhausted from her labour and holding her two children close. 

Tywin Lannister didn't argue for once. He called them Arya and Arye. 

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment to your author, oh valley of plenty.


End file.
